Show me a Hero
by Victoriousdoctor
Summary: Smaug had taken Erebor in blood and fire, he had claimed its gold and shamed its King. Did these dwarves now dare to steal what was rightfully his? They dared usurp his reign? He would kill every last one of the questing fools; the light of hope their kin held, he would extinguish. Major character deaths.
1. Prologue

A whisper began in Middle Earth; of treasure, wealth and precious things. It flew on the wind and soared through the sky until it landed on a Fire Drake's ear. It told him many secret things, but all he heard were the words 'gold' and 'Erebor'. He did not waver indecisively, but took the sky swiftly. He had heard a call, malevolent and sweet, and he would answer it. Each beat of his wings was a declaration of war, each inch he travelled south the battle drew closer.

Smaug was coming, and he brought no mercy with him. His home in the North had been long forgotten, he had no need of it anymore.

A hurricane was what came first; the sound of wing beats carried on a hot swept through Dale. Foreboding followed, and realisation, for all knew what these noises meant. Swiftly came fear, but horror came swifter. Most hardened their hearts and rallied, but some stood by in bemused terror. The young, the old, the cowardly and weak – what chance had these against an inferno's ire?

Some had said it was not the strength of the living that would save them, but a skillfully guided arrow unique in both shade and make. A black arrow launched from a dwarvish Wind-lance, they said. It would save them.

They were wrong, of course.

By the time Smaug's onslaught had begun it was finished — over in brief but dazzling display of fire and fury. Dale fell, its knees cut out from underneath it, a heartless and cruel afterthought…and nothing more. For it was not Dale the whisper had spoken of, but the mountain. Yet he did not pass the opportunity when presented before him, did not stay his fire for innocents...for what good was power without fear? And so, unflinching and unstoppable in his cold intent, he invaded Erebor against the backdrop of a burning city. The screams of the dying were his fanfare, his entry was bathed in blood and fire, and to his prize he hastened. Easy, so easy; the dwarves were nothing beneath his feet and fingers, he barely felt their soft swords as he made his way through the mountain to the gold – his gold.

The dark thrumming call from the great cavern was now answered, its true master now arrived. He cared not what the dwarves did now; he would neither pursue those who ran, nor attack those who might remain. They were nothing to him and always had been. But no fool was he; Smaug knew that one day the dwarves would return, perhaps out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness or the hope that the passage of time might have turned the tables in their favour. And on that day, they would find nothing but death.

But for now, he would revel in his victory, however effortless it had been. The ease of which one takes what they want hardly matters – more so the shame of those defeated! And shamed the dwarves of Erebor were, the line of Durin was disgraced and left in despair. The gold churned as he, Smaug, rejoiced; a turbulent sea of golden light in a dark and fallen mountain.

The king under the mountain was as good as dead, where was his throne and crown? He had taken them, and his people had been his victory feast.

No…there was nothing left but desolation for Durin's Folk.


	2. Awakening

It was a sound that woke him.

But it was a slow awakening; one did not wake from a sixty year sleep easily. The clatter continued, sounds of sliding coins and careless movements making their way to him underneath the gold, and he began to fight against sleep in earnest. Opening an eye he sought out the source of his disturbance…and found none. Thinking it strange, he waited in the hope that time would reveal the noise-maker to him, but still he saw nothing. What he _heard_, however, was enough to confirm his suspicions. An intruder was in the Lonely Mountain.

Smaug did not rise quickly, too self-assured in his own power was he, but took his time. Limbs which had been asleep for decades had suddenly been asked to move, and they were not pleased. Gold was not soft, nor was it warm, and he was not young anymore. As he rose, he scented the air, searching for the familiar smell of dwarf, but what he found instead was unknown to him. The hot stench of fear he knew well, but the scent belonging to this creature was foreign to him. And still, he could not see the being. Strange and stranger. Perhaps it hid in the shadows, thinking the darkness which lay around his lair would save it.

Amused at the idea that it thought it could hide from him, he decided to make the first move, and address the would-be thief. "Well? Thief? I smell you. I hear your breath…I feel your air. Where are you?" He said lowly, each word drawn out patiently and purposefully as he searched the ground in front of him, following the scent intently. He had been mistaken in his assumption that the intruder was hidden in shadow, they seemed to be quite near him. But no matter how carefully he looked, he could not make out their form with his eyes. How were they evading his sight? "Where _are_ you? He could hear, smell and all but _feel_ that they were in front of him, and yet he _could not see them._

_"Where are you?"_ He repeated in a hushed growl, the sound of soft yet panicked breathing increasing in volume as he drew closer. Then suddenly…there! The gold was moving, coins and trinkets jangling as they were jostled under feet of an unseen intruder, and Smaug knew he had found his quarry. Now, and only now, he rushed after it, dropping to the ground and giving chase. As long as it was moving, he reasoned, he could follow it with eyes and ears as its feet disrupted the gold. Adrenaline began to rush through him as he slid and wove his way down the golden sea, loosening the stiffness in his muscles and making his movements fluid and serpentine. Digging his nose into the gold as he moved, he sent a shower of gold in all directions, the world turning cloudy as his third eyelids covered his eyes protectively.

Then, as abruptly as the sound of feet on gold had started, it ceased. His prey had stopped running. It hid from him now, did it? Ha! Sight is not the only sense with which one may find their prey. "Come now, don't be shy…" Smaug said in the vastness of his lair, rivulets of gold streaming from his neck as he toyed with his prey. Scenting the air, he discerned that the creature was behind him, and he twisted sharply around in its direction. "…step into the light!" He waited briefly to see if it would indeed reveal itself, but it did not, and he had not expected it to. The sound of heavy breathing reached his ears, giving away its location. It was right in front of him, panting for breath after their little chase. Feigning ignorance, he continued around the pillar, choosing patience over haste. Better to trap it and prevent escape a second time. It was then that something unexpectedly reached out to him, something golden and immensely valuable, and somehow connected to the creature he now stalked. How interesting that this being should have anything like it, this object which pressed against his mind and demanded his attention. A word began to press insistently against his mind, wanting to be spoken. Wanting to be used as bait. Its allure was too strong, he could not resist. "Hmm…there is something about you." Around the pillar he moved, setting the trap with his words and ensnaring it with every move he made. "Something you carry…something made of gold." The creature was next to him now, and he watched the gold move under its feet as it retreated backwards and pressed itself against the pillar. It was trapped.

"But far more _precious._" The fear heightened, terror and darkness rising, his role in a grand plan of darkness complete. His prey, obviously overwhelmed by the will of its golden treasure, suddenly appeared before him, holding a ring in its hands. Now face to face with the intruder, Smaug was underwhelmed, to say the least. _This_ was what would steal from him? This puny creature, smaller than a dwarf in stature, thought it could evade he, Smaug? Fool! He did not know whether to be amused that it thought its size would aid it in its thievery, or insulted that such a puny thing thought itself capable of stealing from him. But still, there was a game to be played, and so, he addressed the creature with a pleasantness that gave lie to the scorn he felt.

"_There_ you are, thief in the Shadows." He took the time as he spoke to examine it closely, searching for anything which might tell him from where he came from. Something caught his attention, something so very faint, yet familiar. But he could not figure it out, his nose was not close enough to discern it.

The creature wasted no time in trying to reassure him, assuring him that he had not come to steal from him. "I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence, to see if you truly were as great as the old tales say. I-I did not believe them!" It all but whimpered, cowering from him. The words were maddening to him, and he lost control of himself, his enraged pride overwhelming his common sense. With an angry growl he withdrew, intent of proving his majesty. Where did this creature come from, that the name of Smaug did not inspire dread in it? What rocky cavern or deep recess must I live in, that it thought itself safe and protected enough to come into _his_ mountain, and question _his_ reign?! It was nothing but an ant standing in front of a King!

Moving to stand on an exposed platform, he turned and drew himself up until he towered over the creature, and boomed imperiously, "And do you _now?_" His voice echoed through the canyon, and it seemed as if the very walls shook in the knowledge that he, Smaug, was awake once more.

Its response was exactly as he had expected. It was in awe of him, of his might and magnificence, and rightly so! For mere lyrics, no matter how moving, nor mere descriptions, no matter how vivid, could ever compare to the sight of he, Smaug, in all of his splendour. His pride now satisfied, common sense began to return. "Do you think flattery will keep you alive?" He asked idly, silently warning that he was not to be trifled with. It said it was here to 'gaze at his magnificence'? Not likely.

"Uh n-no, no." Was its response.

"No indeed." He replied curtly, though he did not believe the creature was telling the truth. Stripped of its cloak of invisibility, what else had it but words to defend itself from him? But perhaps its race possessed some extraordinary feature he did not know about, and that is why he thought it could steal from him. It was highly unlikely, but as he did not know what it was, he did not know what he was facing. And how peculiar, that it should know his name, and he did not know what it was. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?" He inquired, lowering himself to the ground so as to look the being directly in the eyes. He was not able to stop curiosity entering his voice, it was rare he discovered something unusual. And unusual this creature was, with its invisibility and ignorance, and while he could kill it now, he would rather find out the answer to this puzzle first.

The little thing appeared to be momentarily lost for words, its eyes caught by something on the ground, but before he could follow its gaze, it had come up with a reply for him. "I come from under the hill."

What? "Underhill?" He repeated, his head tilting slightly in confusion. What did it mean by this? A place, a town? What sort of answer was this?

It nodded in confirmation, and continued, "And over hills and under hills my path has led." Ahh, now all was made clear. It sought to conceal itself in riddles. How quaint. With narrowed eyes and a dark smile he withdrew, amused by this turn of events. It wished to not only steal from him, but also challenge him to a game of wits? Very well, he would indulge it. The more it talked, the more likely it would err. And when it did, he would win.

"And-And through the air, I am He who walks Unseen" It said, no doubt thinking itself very clever. He replied that he thought its list of titles impressive, and inquired as to whether there was any other thing it supposedly was. And as he did so, he drew closer to the being, only ceasing when he was in such close proximity to it that he could discern each bead of sweat that sat upon its brow. His aim had been to break any confidence it may have had, but he also realised that he could now smell the familiar scent from earlier. He knew that scent.

"I-I am…Luck-Luck Wearer…Riddle-Riddle Maker" It stuttered and stammered, obviously uncomfortable. Inhaling deeply, he attempted to confirm his suspicions. The scent was faint, sweat and fear having all but overpowered it, but if he was not mistaken, and he rarely was, it carried the smell of dwarf on it. How _interesting._

"Lovely titles. Go on." Smaug urged, waiting for something – anything- which might five him a hint as to where it had come from, and how it might have ended up in the company of dwarves.

"…Barrel Rider." It finished, trying to appease him. A mistake, of course, for in doing so it had giving him his first clue.

"Barrels? Now that _is_ interesting!" Drawing back now that he had what he wished, he turned his mind to the puzzle he was faced with. The creature was a rider of barrels, which smelt of dwarf. There were a number of possibilities in this, but as to the barrels, there were only one group of people he knew about which might use barrels, and they were the filth that infested Laketown. So, it had come from Laketown, had it? But that could not have been the beginning of its journey; Laketown was a town of men, and it was not one, nor did dwarves live there. No, it has come from somewhere else, and somehow met dwarves along the way.

"And what about your little dwarf friends?" Smaug knew this is what it had been trying to conceal as soon as the words left his mouth. The slight questioning shift of its head, the faint alarm in its eyes – he had taken it off guard. "Where are they hiding?" He asked, smugness oozing from every syllable. The evidence was irrefutable, the stench of dwarf clung to it as moss clung to rocks, and it dawned on him that they might be nearby.

It replied that he had been mistaken, that there were no dwarves anywhere, and indeed it made out as if it had never heard of the race before. It lied poorly, overcompensating and overacting, and he raised his brow in disbelief, unimpressed. He was momentarily tempted to roar his disbelief, demand where the dwarves where, and kill them all before they could suspect anything. But there was a game to be played, and it had not grown tiring yet. Quite the opposite. He was merely biding his time, waiting for when it was his turn. For he was beginning to spin some lies for it in his mind, to make it doubt and question and suspicious, but the difference between its lies and his?

His would be believed.

"Oh I don't think so, _Barrel Rider._" It all began to make sense in his mind: The smell of dwarf, the creatures' preoccupation, its clatter when it had awoken him...it was _searching_ for something. Something in specific. "They sent you in here to do your dirty work, while they skulk about outside." He continued, though not questioningly. It was fact, the dwarves were nearby, and they both knew it. In truth, it was worthy of laughter. That the dwarves of Durin had been so cowardly as to send not their best warriors, but this insect to him, sending it to its death in the hope they might slay a dragon. He had brought them lower than he ever could have hoped to. Their shame was complete.

"Truly, you are mistaken O Smaug Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities." It assured, once more wielding flattery as its weapon. But this time, there was no rush of angered pride to cloud his vision, nor wounded vanity to blind his judgement, and the words missed their mark. He could be fooled once, but not twice.

"You have nice manners, for a thief, and a _liar!_" Smaug roared, for once not hiding the contempt in his voice. Politeness was gone, let no more pretence exist in that regard. It was obviously under some delusion, perhaps its prolonged survival had duped it into thinking it could take liberties, that there was a margin of error for it to make mistakes. The look on its face was evidence enough, it was surprised to be called a liar, despite it having lied the moment it had spoken to him. Did it think itself subtle? Smart? On the contrary! It reeked of the very thing it strived to conceal. "I know the smell and taste of dwarf. No one better! It is the gold; they are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh."

But wait, the creature was moving. Did it think to escape now that his anger was stirred? "Did you think I did not know this day would come?" He demanded. Moving to stand between two pillars, he braced himself against one, and slammed his head into the other, his eyes never leaving the would-be thief as it fled. The sound of the stone in the pillar cracking was satisfying, but more so the sight of the thief being knocked off of its feet. It tumbled down a small ledge, golden coins following in its wake which formed a miniature avalanche, covering it where it had fallen.

But his fury was not satisfied. "That a pack of canting dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?" Raising his hand, he pushed against the pillar with all of his might. The pillar, already weakened by his abuse, gave way immediately, and collide with the ground so forcefully that the even he felt the tremor that travelled through the ground as a result. The deafening impact echoed throughout the mountain, a signal to any and all who heard it that he was still alive.

And he was awake.


End file.
